Blaine before Kurt
by goodgollymolly
Summary: Blaine's life before Kurt and Dalton, including coming out, bullying, life, and transferring. T for harsh language. Chapter 13: Dalton.
1. Blaine Comes Out

"Dad….Mom-I have something I want to tell you," Blaine said breathlessly, "but first-you'd love me no matter what I did, right? Like I'd never stop being your son or something right?"

"Of course not Blaine! You know we love you no matter what!" his mother said graciously.

Blaine's dad just grumbled from the drivers' seat, "Damn traffic-you'd think that these people could learn to drive-but yes Blaine, what were you saying?"

Blaine knew that this probably wasn't the best time-they had just gotten out of the Ohio State game and his dad was trying to navigate the parking lot filled with people who just wanted to go home. But Blaine knew that he had to tell them. They'd know soon enough with report cards coming out anyway, with his grades slipping-not because he wasn't smart, but because the bullying was taking its toll. It hadn't been bad until he got to middle school. That's when the bullying started. How could they tell? Did he give off that kind of scent or something? Why did they hate him so much?

"Mom…Dad…"Blaine started, but started to choke back a sob, "I like boys-I'm gay."

His mother turned around and said "Nice try mister, but what about that nice Libby girl you're always hanging around with? You seem like two peas in a pod!"

They didn't believe him. Why did this have to be so hard? Blaine took a deep breath and choked back another sob.

"Libby isn't talking to me anymore…I told her and she said that I was going to hell," Blaine sobbed loudly, "but I can't help it! I'm gay!"

"Stop that!" Blaine's dad shouted, turning red from the tips of his ears on down, "You're just confused! You don't know what you want-you're only fifteen for God's sake!"

"Dad, I've known since I can remember!" Blaine shouted through his sobs, "I knew I was different-but I like boys. Girls are nice, but I don't like them like that!"

"I didn't raise a fag," his dad spat out, still facing the front of the car, "you just don't know what you want."

That word. That's what they called him in the hallways as they slammed him back into his locker. Or when he tried to take the gym locker next to theirs.

Blaine looked up at his mother. She was facing the front of the car, shoulders silently rising as she cried. His father was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were pure white. His face and ears were still red with rage though.

"I'm so sorry," Blaine choked out, "I don't want to be this way, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to disappoint you. I'm so sorry."

Blaine had full, body wracking sobs. He kept apologizing, as if saying sorry would make him un-gay.

"Stop crying-don't act like such a little fairy," his dad said quietly.

"Bryan-stop it!" his mother said through her tears.

"No, it's your fault he's like…this! You babied him his entire life, you always had to be around him!" his dad screamed at his mom.

"No, dad, it's not like that!", Blaine yelled at him.

"YOU. Shut the hell up you little queer-I sure as hell didn't raise you to be like this!" his dad roared back.

Blaine retreated. He sat with his head down, not daring to look up again for the entire ride home. The car was quiet, they didn't even have the radio on to cut through the thick silence.

His dad didn't speak a word until he got home. "Sarah-please go inside, I need to talk to Blaine for a moment."

His mother nodded, and left Blaine and his father alone in the car. Blaine gulped as his dad started to speak.

"Listen to me-you won't tell anyone else about your little 'problem'. We will keep this in the family, this is no one else's business. You're going to see a counselor to see if we can't get your head on straight and fix you. You WILL NOT talk about this. You're also out of choir and orchestra. You'll take shop or something, I don't know. This is not right Blaine Anderson. Just know that."

With that, his dad left him in the car sobbing, hoping that tomorrow this would have all been a nightmare. Nobody wanted him, he was something broken that needed to be fixed. He was just another fracture in the Anderson façade that needed to be patched. But maybe he'd just take care of the "problem" for them. If nobody wanted him in the world, maybe he should just take himself out, save them all the trouble.


	2. Aftermath

I have to tell you all, it warms my heart when you subscribe and favorite! You're amazing and I heart you. Sorry it's been a little bit, I'm a cellist and have a summer job playing pit for Phantom of the Opera. I hope you like this chapter!

WARNING: Contains harsh language that can be triggering if you've gone through something like poor Blaine.

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><p>Blaine sat on his bed, staring into the empty space in front of him. He hadn't expected it to go that badly. He thought his parents would understand! He was still the same Blaine Anderson underneath. Right? Being gay didn't make you any different from what you were before? He wouldn't stop liking football or anything like that in favor of fashion, right?<p>

He let out a low sob as he recalled how badly it had gone when he had tried to tell Libby.

Libby was one of the prettiest girls in the freshman class, and she was Blaine's best friend. They did everything together, and most people had assumed they were dating. He thought that she would understand the best out of everyone he knew. He had told her a month before he told his parents.

"Hey, Libs, I have something to tell you…"

"Yes?" Libby said, irritated that she had to look up from her Spanish homework.

"Um…I'm gay. I like guys." Blaine said bluntly.

"WHAT?" Libby shrieked, standing up from the table in her kitchen.

"I'm gay-I thought you should know before I told anyone else since you're my best friend."

"No. We're not best friends anymore if you're a fucking fag-do you know what happens to fags Blaine? They get AIDS and die and go to hell, is that what you want?" Libby had anger dancing in her eyes.

"Libs…."

"Don't you ever call me that again-get out of my house, you're filthy! I said GET OUT NOW!"

That was the last time he talked to Libby. Libby had told the entire choir that Blaine was gay, and now none of the other baritones would even stand by him, let alone talk to him or make eye contact. The only person who would talk to him at school was his orchestra teacher now, and now he had to drop that class too, at the demands of his dad.

Blaine grabbed one of his pillows and let out a scream, and then began to sob again. His dad wanted to fix him? Why was it so bad that he was gay? Blaine walked down the hall towards the bathroom. He tried to keep his sobs down as he walked past their bedroom, where he heard them arguing, mostly his dad screaming at his mom:

"…knew he would turn out this way with you as a mother…"

"…send him to a camp where they can fix him…"

"…cut the fucking crying and own up to what you did!"

His dad was roaring at his mom, dominating the argument as usual. Blaine accidentally let out a loud sob as he heard his dad call him a fag again. That word. The one that stung so much. His dad burst from the room and grabbed Blaine by the wrist.

Blaine struggled to get away, but his father just tightened his grip.

"You are ruining this family." His dad spit on him then, just like the bullies at school did.

"Fuck you." Blaine mumbled back.

"What did you say to me boy?" Blaine was shoved up against a wall now.

"I said fuck you, dad. What are you going to do, beat the gay out of me? It hasn't worked for any of the kids at school yet, why would you think it would work for you?"

Blaine had no idea where that courage had come from. Was it because he was so used to being shoved around that it didn't scare him anymore?

"You little fag," his father said, looking lost for words "you're going to bed now. I'm sick of you crying out for attention like this. We'll fix you."

With that, his dad dragged him down the hall by his wrist and threw him into his room.

After his dad left, Blaine started to sob into his pillow, not wanting to disturb his dad again. Blaine Anderson wished that he was dead. He fell asleep hoping that he would never wake up again so he wouldn't have to feel the pain.


	3. Sunday

Every time you review/subscribe/add me to a list it is amazing! You guys rule, seriously. Feel free to help me out with anything you feel needs fixing grammar/factual/flow-wise. Thanks again everyone :)

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><p>Humiliation. That's what Blaine felt when his dad shoved him back down into the pew when he had gotten up to get communion. He knew why. The Catholic Church wasn't okay with homosexuality, so he technically wasn't morally clean to receive communion. Tears stung his eyes as he hung his head in the pew, watching his parents get communion. The man sitting behind him slapped him on the back and gave a guffaw, saying "Rough week, huh son?"<p>

After mass, his father decided it was time for Blaine to go to confession.

"Dad, no…"

"Blaine, you need to plead for forgiveness for your unnatural urges-what you're doing isn't right!"

"Dad, I can't pray away the gay!"

His father hissed into his ear, "Be quiet Blaine, people can hear you-I don't want them to know about your disease."

"Fine. Whatever. I'll go confess."

Blaine entered the small space, and immediately felt awkward. Did he try to lead up to the biggest sin with little ones like taking God's name in vain? Or did he just get it out in the open?

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

"Yes, my child?"

Oh shit. It was Father Hausen-the priest who had not only confirmed Blaine, but also baptized him and given him his first communion.

"Father, you can't tell anyone else about what I say, right?"

"Yes, that's correct."

Good. Blaine tried to remember to breathe and swallowed the lump that had grown in his throat.

"Father, today I couldn't take communion because I have committed a grave sin in some peoples' eyes"

"My child, what have you done? It can't have been too bad, you're such a good boy!"

"Father, I'm gay," Blaine said in a barely audible whisper, tears streaming down his face, "I don't want to be! I've tried not to be! Will God ever forgive me?"

"That is serious," Father Hausen replied, "but the Catholic Church is only against homosexual behavior-you can be gay, you just can't act on it."

"Okay," Blaine was still choking out his words as he cried, "but what am I supposed to do?"

"Pray, my child."

"I'll try, Father."

"And Blaine," Blaine winced at the sound of his name, knowing Father Hausen knew exactly who it was, "God loves all his creations. We're all sinners, and no sin is greater than another. God loves you no matter what you do, okay?"

"Thank you Father-but what's my penance?"

"Blaine, just try to smile, okay? Or do three Hail Marys, if it would make you feel better."

Blaine actually felt better after confession. He hadn't expected it to go like that. To be told that things would be okay. Maybe he would be welcome somewhere, someday.

Blaine crossed himself as he exited the chapel; still feeling like a weight had been lifted. Until he saw his father's cold stare. Blaine climbed into the car, instantly sensing the contempt his father had for him. They rode home in silence, his mom and dad keeping their eyes forward. Blaine let his thoughts drift to last Sunday. They had all been laughing and talking about something funny that happened during mass-he couldn't remember what.

They finally got back home after the second most tense car ride of his life. His dad turned around to face him.

"You. Stay in the car, we're going to get lunch."

They dropped his mom off, and Blaine moved to the front seat.

"Why did you do this to the family?"

Blaine's jaw dropped. He didn't think that he had actually done anything directly to the family-it was him who was gay! That shouldn't do anything to the family. He tried to collect his thoughts.

"Well, are you going to answer me?"

"Um, I thought I should tell you guys. I've known since I was about ten for sure. I didn't think it would do anything to the family."

"Sure you didn't," his father chuckled, "you just happened to think that we would be alright with the fact that we raised a pervert."

"I am not a pervert," Blaine muttered, "and honestly, I don't see why this is so bad for the family."

"You are acting like a child Blaine-I'm a partner in Columbus's most successful law firm, well respected at church and in the community, and I didn't do anything to deserve a son who is experiencing such a profound moral weakness."

"It is not a moral weakness-and I don't see why it's such a cause for shame. Some people are gay."

"You are not 'some people' Blaine, you're an Anderson, and the Andersons are bastions of community strength. You can't do this Blaine."

They pulled up to the speaker, ordered, paid, and then were on their way back home.

"We're going to get you help for this little problem. People have gotten over this perversion before young man, and you're going to get over it too."

"Whatever. Let's go home."

"We'll finish this discussion later young man."

Blaine just stared out the window. He should never have come out. He just shouldn't have dated until he got to college, and just come out then, far from his parents and tormentors. He wouldn't have to go through all of this. His parents would have been able to disown him then, and that would have been the end of it.

They finally got home, and Blaine headed straight for his bedroom. He didn't care about lunch, he just needed to be alone. His parents didn't say anything, but he heard them arguing about him again. Blaine just needed to breathe and survive these next three and a half years, then he'd be home (relatively speaking) free.


	4. Outburst and Orchestra

Hello everyone! Sorry for the whole long time, no update thing. I was on vacation with no internet-I almost died! I'll be trying to update more regularly now. Again, you guys rule, I love when I get alerts, they make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! I would appreciate some more reviews, but honestly, I love just knowing that people actually read this.

Just in case you want to drop me a line or something, my tumblr is goodgollyimmolly(.)tumblr(.)com!

And again, you're all amazing.

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><p>Blaine was in the bathroom looking in the mirror, inspecting the day's damage. He had been shoved face-first into a locker, and suspected that his nose was probably broken. He had run up the stairs right when he got home so his parents couldn't see what had happened. The last few weeks had been awful. The bullying at school had gotten worse, to the point where he was caught trying to duck out of class early to avoid passing periods. He had been locker-checked more times than he had cared to this week, but the worst attack had left him with a brace on his wrist. Some stupid jock had shoved him down, and Blaine had fallen awkwardly on his wrist, spraining it. Nobody saw it though. Not even when they spit on him in the hallway. His dad had told him to "man-up". It was his fault for being such a fairy, after all.<p>

"BLAINE ANDERSON, YOU GET DOWN HERE NOW!" His dad was in a mood again, what a wonderful way to cap off the week.

Blaine trudged from the bathroom, proceeding slowly down the stairs, like a man walking to the gallows. He knew he was going to get screamed at for something again. This morning it had been singing in the shower. He wondered what it would be this time.

"That bitch of an orchestra teacher called me," Brian Anderson spat out, "apparently you were the concertmaster and now she's having problems finding someone to replace you. How did she get our number?"

"Dad, it's in the school directory, plus she was my favorit-"

"Blaine, just shut up," his dad replied, rubbing his temples, "she pointed out that apparently you have 'potential' or some shit like that. I tried to tell her that I didn't want you playing some faggy instrument-"

"It is not a 'faggy instrument'! Just because you can't play-"

"Blaine Anderson, you will not talk to me that way," his dad shouted, grabbing the front of Blaine's shirt and shoving him against the wall, "I was going to say that she told me about quite a few great violinists, and I was considering letting you rejoin orchestra, but now I'm not so sure. Your little outburst didn't convince me that you deserve that privilege."

"I'm so sorry," Blaine choked out, still terrified that his dad hadn't let go of his shirt, "I'm so sorry sir. I want to play again; I want to be in orchestra. I love it-please."

He was trying not to cry, he knew it would make his dad even angrier. He really did miss playing the violin.

"Do you really think you deserve it Blaine," his dad said in a dangerous tone, an ugly smile spreading across his face, "after all you've done to us? Playing violin is a privilege. I'm not sure if you would really appreciate it."

"I would," Blaine squeaked out, "I would, sir. I miss it a lot. It was my favorite class, besides choir. I just miss music."

"Well, I guess you should have thought about that before you decided to give in to your moral weaknesses," his dad said smoothly, "but I guess I could let you be in orchestra again. It would only take one phone call. But Blaine, remember, I can always take this privilege away-and we wouldn't want that to happen."

With that, he shoved Blaine into the wall once more, and stormed out of the living room. Blaine slid down the wall, finally being able to take real breaths after walking on eggshells with his dad. His dad had never been violent before Blaine came out, and while he didn't hit Blaine, he had gotten a lot more physical. He thought he had been too gentle with him growing up and was trying to make up for it. Blaine's mom walked into the room, glancing at her son, followed by the inevitable double-take after she saw his nose.

"Blaine! What happened to your nose?"

"I fell face first into a locker mom," he sighed, "it'll be fine, honestly it looks worse than it feels."

Blaine was used to lying to his mother. She was the typical society wife who hated anything that infringed upon her "perfect" family. Blaine knew that she would buy the lie to continue life in her little fantasy world.

"Oh, okay! By the way, we're having spaghetti for dinner. Also, Mrs. Keller called, she said Libby doesn't have a date to the Youth for Christ dance, so I thought-"

"Libby and I aren't talking, mom," Blaine said evenly, "we're not friends anymore because of my 'problem'."

"Oh Blaine, I'm sure she'll be over it soon-"

"She told me I was going to get AIDS and go to hell, of course it's her who has to get over it-"

"Now Blaine, we're all concerned about this little phase you're going through, your father and I are hoping that you get over it soon, but maybe you should apologize to her?"

His mother was smiling sweetly at him. She really didn't get it. She thought that being gay was something that he could change as easily as his hair color. Him being gay wasn't part of her "perfect family" ideal.

"Mom, I'm not apologizing to her. I didn't do anything wrong," Blaine took a deep breath, "and it's not a phase. I've known I was gay since I was ten or so, okay? It's not something that I can turn on and off, I've tried to like girls, it just doesn't work-alright?"

"How dare you!" Blaine saw the anger behind her hazel eyes, "How can you just sit there and expect me to support your unnatural urges? You aren't even trying to make this work!"

"Mom-I would like girls if I could, honestly. Because…" he had started to sob again, "I don't know if you've noticed, but my life hasn't exactly been a fucking picnic lately! I sprained my wrist this week because someone threw me to the ground! And my nose is probably broken-do you even care? It's crooked because someone shoved me into my locker FACE-first this morning-I didn't fall! Nobody even stopped to see if I was okay. Nobody talks to me at school anymore, and the teachers barely pay attention. Sure, they'll stop the verbal stuff in class, but they don't see how bad they're hurting me! Then I come home and have you guys refuse to acknowledge that I'm gay, or get in my face about what a pervert I am! I'm gay mom, and there's nothing that's going to change that. Maybe someday you'll be able to understand that!"

Blaine was panting heavily after his speech, and hadn't noticed his dad walk in. He was livid. His eyes were fiery, and his hands were in tight fists. Blaine's mouth went dry, and he started to shake. He just wanted to be loved-he was the same boy that he was 3 weeks ago, when his parents still actually cared. He wasn't any different, but it had all changed so quickly.

"You will not talk to your mother that way," his dad said, icily calm, "and I will be calling the school to see about the physical violence, and see if it's really as bad as you say, or if you are making this all up to justify your lifestyle choices. I'm still very disappointed in you Blaine."

They thought he was lying. How could they? Why would he sprain his own wrist? Or break his own nose?

"Fine then, whatever." Blaine wouldn't meet their eyes.

"Dinner's ready." his mom said quietly.

"Good," his dad said, eyes like darts against Blaine still, "we'll continue this later, Blaine. You need to learn to respect your elders. I can see we'll need to have a chat."

"Great, can't wait."

With that, his parents left the room, leaving Blaine to wonder exactly what that "talk" would entail.


	5. Vocal Jazz

Hey everybody! I promised I'd be updating more regularly-so I'm starting off on the right foot now. This is way less angsty than usual...it's actually happy! I hope you like it. Again, reviews are amazing, and I would love to know what you all think. I do appreciate the ones I've already gotten-you guys rock!

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><p>"Hey you, Anderson, right?"<p>

Blaine whipped around. He was a little bit frightened since this was the first time someone had addressed him at school in weeks, and honestly? He was okay with that. It made it seem like the attacks were somehow less personal if they didn't know who it was.

"Yes, um…yes, I'm Blaine," Way to sound like a spaz Blaine, real smooth there, "and who are you?"

"Dean, Dean Harmon," Dean looked slightly confused as to why Blaine was acting so strangely, "I'm a tenor in choir? You stood behind me. I play viola too, but I'm in the back of the section, so you wouldn't see me there. I was wondering why you weren't in choir anymore…I kind of miss hearing your voice behind me."

Dean was actually smiling at him. It had been forever since anyone at school had looked at him with something other than contempt.

"Well, I was wondering if you'd like to be a part of vocal jazz. We meet before school twice a week. You always sounded really good in choir, and I thought that if choir didn't fit in your schedule, maybe you could do vocal jazz? Ms. Martin, the orchestra teacher is the group coordinator."

Blaine was trapped. He would love to do choir again, but his dad would never let him. He had already let him back in orchestra, but choir would be pushing it. He didn't want to make him angry again. It had only been a week since he let him take orchestra again, and they hadn't really fought since then. He had tried to keep a low profile at home, only coming out of his room to eat dinner. But maybe he could join vocal jazz without him knowing? He would just have to get to school early, then it would all work out.

"Um, I can give you time to think about it," Dean said, looking at him curiously, "if you want, that is…we would love to have you though!"

"Actually, I'd really like to join…my parents wouldn't have to know or anything, right? Because they just don't think music is really a worthwhile pursuit, and they like me to do stuff with the honors kids before school, and they'd be very-"

"Blaine, dude, calm down-no one would have to know besides the twelve of us and Ms. Martin. So we'll see you tomorrow at 7:15? Cool?"

"Sure…where do we rehearse though?"

"The small auditorium. They have risers set up and everything, just bring your voice! I can't wait to hear you again!" Dean gave Blaine another smile, and then ran off to rejoin the drama kids who were heading to rehearsal.

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><p>"Hey dad, I have to be at school early tomorrow-honors thing again, you know the drill."<p>

Blaine's dad snorted into his mashed potatoes, "I suppose you'll want a ride then. I swear, I should charge you for the gas it takes me to get you back and forth between school and soccer practice."

Blaine forced a smile, "I know it's a lot, but eventually it will all be worth it."

"Tell that to the Escalade's gas tank. Maybe you should start walking to school again."

"Dad, the high school is three miles away…I don't think that will work."

Blaine was afraid he was serious, but his fears were assuaged once his dad started laughing.

"I was just joking, Blaine-you know I like to joke…"

Not recently, Blaine thought to himself. This was the first night his dad seemed to be back to normal since that weekend in October. Maybe the normality was an early Christmas present? It may be three weeks away, but Blaine would take it.

"Cool. And thanks dad. I appreciate it."

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><p>Blaine walked into the small auditorium, and was welcomed by the biggest group of misfits he had seen so far. It was like all the ignored of the school had gotten together and made a singing group.<p>

"Blaine! I'm so glad you decided to join us! We've been looking for a good baritone," Ms. Martin bent down and whispered in Blaine's ear, "they may not look like much, but they're not bad-they just need a leader…that's not six years older than them."

"Well, it looks like everyone's here! Dean-do you want to get Blaine some music? And Blaine-introduce yourself!" Ms. Martin took a seat in the audience, while the students filed onto the stage.

"Well, um…I'm Blaine Anderson…I'm a freshman, I'm the concertmaster in the orchestra, and I play forward on the soccer team, well, I did before the jocks decided to make me their punching bag," he laughed bitterly, "and now I'm here because my dad decided to take me out of most of my music classes, and I missed choir. So I'm secretly sneaking in vocal jazz…which makes me the world's worst rebellious teen, I guess."

Ms. Martin chuckled, "Thank you Blaine…and I see Dean has your music all ready for you! Let's get started with 'White Christmas'!"

They really weren't bad-Ms. Martin was right about them needing a leader though. Blaine actually felt them starting to look to him for guidance. Dean kept smiling at him, so that was encouraging. The time flew by, and Blaine couldn't believe that they'd been rehearsing for 45 minutes when they 8:00 bell rang.

"Okay all of you, get to class! Especially you orch dorks-I'll see the rest of you Thursday-same time, same place! We have a concert in three weeks." Ms. Martin walked up to Blaine, "Thank you-we were missing something, and I think you fit the bill. Now go get your violin, I'll meet you and the rest of my orchestra minions in five!"

Dean sidled up to him, "Pretty cool, huh? Wanna walk to orchestra together? If you want to…"

"Sure," Blaine smiled, "that sounds great!"

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><p>Blaine had his first good day at school since….while, since about the seventh grade. His new vocal jazz-mates invited him to sit with them at lunch, which was great compared to his usual hide-in-the-bathroom-and-hope-everyone-forgets-me thing. It was great to have people to talk to, to walk with-to laugh with. This vocal jazz thing was the best ever. He had people from the group in every class, and even if they didn't know each other well, they were cordial. The good day suddenly turned to something a little different, though.<p>

"Hey Blaine-" Dean had caught Blaine at his locker, "I know it's really none of my business, we're not close at all, but why did you quit choir-the real reason-not just the crap about your dad not thinking it was a worthwhile class. I think it's way more worthwhile than shop! Plus, your dad came to like every concert. Also, why would you take shop? You're going to be a lawyer or something like your dad right, and…"

"Dean, I told you why…and it's really none of your fucking business, you're right." Blaine had taken an icy tone, reminiscent of the one his father used on him. Blaine went scurrying down the hall, but Dean caught him quickly, as Blaine was only about 5'3" and had the short legs to go with it, while Dean was 6'0" tall.

"Is it because you're gay," Dean whispered, "I was just wondering, okay? I knew something must be up because no one would talk to you either. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable though."

Shit. People could tell. Blaine thought he had done at least an okay job of trying to hide it-he was passing shop, wasn't he? But there it was, Dean could tell. He would probably start throwing him around now too. Blaine pulled him into a bathroom.

"It's none of your damn business, but yes, my dad thought that music classes were too 'faggy' and had turned me gay! So he made me drop them. Yes, that's why I get beat up on every day and nobody will talk to me. They think that they'll catch it." Blaine had started to cry, "I guess you'll probably want to hit me or something. At the very least spit in my face so that you can feel better about this all."

"Blaine," Dean started gently, "did you just come out?"

"Yes…but how would you-"

"It takes one to know one Blaine." Dean chuckled.

"Wha? You're gay too?" Blaine was dumbstruck.

"Yep, 100% gay male, right here! I just thought something was up because that uppity bitch-"

"Libby."

"Yes, well, _Libby _told the whole choir you were a fag, so I figured you tried to tell the people closest to you first, then you went to your parents. I did the same thing when I was 13."

"Whoa, 13? That must have sucked royally."

"Oh, it did. My dad couldn't believe he'd had a fag for a son. But now my parents are kind of indifferent. It's kind of blown over here too. Plus, they all seem to be afraid of me after my last growth spurt. Being 6'0" kind of kicks ass sometimes. And I'm a junior now. Nobody messes with me."

Blaine smiled up at him from the bathroom floor. "Help me up?"

"You got yourself down there, you can get yourself back up," Dean said, a twinkle in his eye, "just kidding! Here-"

Dean held out his hand and pulled him into a hug.

"Be strong," Dean whispered, walking out of the bathroom.

This really was the best day Blaine had had for a long time.


	6. Denny's

Whoa, I'm on a roll! Here's another update for you lovely people. :) Again, I love reviews/recommendations/criticisms, so don't be shy. Also, a little bit of niceness, tempered by a bit of angst. Enjoy!

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><p>The last week had been the best week Blaine had had for a long time. He had friends again, his dad didn't seem to hate him anymore, and he got to sing again. It had been almost two weeks since he broke his nose, and although it was healing rather crookedly, it hurt a lot less.<p>

He was humming to himself when his mom had walked into his room, stopping her dead in her tracks.

"Blaine, baby," she said smiling, "you seem so happy all of the sudden! Who's the lucky girl?"

"No one, Mom." He sighed, "Just having a lot better time at school. I'm really excited for the orchestra concert-I have a solo in one of the songs."

"That's great, Blaine." His mother flitted around his bedroom, picking up the socks that he had long abandoned on the floor. She blew him a kiss as she left the room.

He had lied-there was someone, but not a girl. A boy. Blaine didn't know if it was just because Dean was the only other gay guy he'd met, but between those circumstances, and the fact that Dean was nice to him, Blaine had a crush. His heart did little flip flops when Dean passed him in the hallway, smiling at him kindly. Dean was just trying to be nice-he wasn't interested, right? The smiles were just supposed to be encouraging, nothing more. Blaine screamed into his pillow. Why did things have to be so complicated? Blaine's phone buzzed, but he didn't recognize the number.

_U, me, Denny's tomorrow morning? The rest of the group may tag along, but I can tell them no if u want. ;)~Dean_

Blaine held the phone to his chest. Maybe Dean did like him too? Or maybe it was him just trying to be friendly again, he couldn't be sure.

_How did u get my #-I never gave it to u.-Blaine_

Smooth move, Blaine. Now he's going to think you're creeped out, even if he did like you. His phone buzzed again.

_I have my ways ;). Being vocal jazz secretary does tend to help a lot tho. So, Denny's or not?~Dean_

_I don't have a car. And my dad would freak if he saw a boy picking me up.-B._

_I'll have one of the girls pick u up, how about that?~Big D._

_Big D? Are Dudley Dursley in disguise? And sure, sounds good.-Lil' B?_

_Lil' B? Is that short for Bilbo? C u 2morrow at 8:00.-Big D._

Blaine knew he liked Dean when he dragged himself out of bed at 7:30 on a Saturday morning. Getting Blaine out of bed before noon on a Saturday was an achievement. He quickly dressed, and shouted "Going out with friends, be back later!"

"Stop right there," his dad snapped, "what friends? We haven't met any friends."

At that moment, Angela and Dean rang the doorbell. _Shit. Cover's blown, just gonna wait for him to blow up at them. I am so dead._

His dad opened the door, and thank God Angela and Dean had dressed normally. Well, Dean always did, but for some reason, Angela seemed to love hemp. He was relieved to see her in a t-shirt and jeans.

"Who the hell are these people Blaine?"

Dean stuck out his hand, and flashed a brilliant smile, "Dean Harmon, sir. We're all in orchestra together. We were going to take Blaine out to breakfast with us, if that's alright, Mr. Anderson."

Blaine watched his father look at Dean, appraising him.

"Harmon, you say. You wouldn't be any relation to Noah Harmon, the county court judge, would you?"

Dean stiffened. "That's my father, yes."

At that, Angela shoved to the front and said, "Angela Drake, my dad's the police chief, so you don't have anything to worry about, sir. Blaine's in good hands."

"I like this one," his dad chuckled, "she's got spirit. Okay Blaine, go ahead."

Blaine practically shoved them both out of his house, following close behind.

"Y'know, we can walk." Angela did not like to be rushed anywhere.

"Can we please get out of here before he changes his mind? If he finds out that Dean is anything other than straight, he will lock me in the attic and tell everyone I'm at boarding school, okay?"

"Jesus, fine Blaine," Angela muttered, "and way to be a drama queer-I mean queen!"

"Just get us the fuck out of here, okay? I really don't want to end up talking about my dad," Dean mumbled, "talk about a buzz kill.

They drove in silence for a little while before Dean decided to practically vault the center console to sit beside Blaine in the backseat.

"Sorry about that-I just really don't like talking about my dad," Dean whispered, "he doesn't really like anyone to know about me."

"Um, Dean, you just saw my dad. If he had caught a whiff of gayness from you, I wouldn't be here. I'd be listening to a lecture on how I'd besmirched our home by inviting a fag over," Dean winced when Blaine used that term, "so, I get why you wouldn't want to talk about your dad."

"Blaine-could you please not use that word? I mean, I know that it may be better for us to say, but still-fag is a really charged term."

"Oh-okay…sorry." Blaine had turned a lovely shade of red. He was embarrassing himself in front of the boy he liked by being his not-so-smooth self.

"It's okay," Dean said, taking his hand-which filled Blaine with butterflies, "you're new to this whole thing."

"HAND CHECK!"

"We're not doing anything, Ang, so shut up!"

Blaine smiled. He really was happy to have found a group. Breakfast went well, except sitting next to Dean was distracting. Blaine was sure he spent the entire time blushing. Dean was a very touchy-feely person, and would put his arm around Blaine, or touch his knee to make a point. Angela kept giggling whenever she would see Blaine turn bright red over this, causing Blaine to kick her under the table.

They dropped Blaine off at home, where he waved goodbye and went into the house, still laughing from the craziness that happens when you get a group of musicians together.

"Did you have a good time, Blaine?"

"Yep dad. It was a lot of fun," Blaine replied, "they're all really good kids."

"Really, Blaine? Because I think you have something to tell me," his dad was rising out of his chair now, fire dancing behind his eyes, "something about Dean?"

_Shit. _His dad knew-he braced himself as he said quietly, "Dean's gay dad. Like me."

"No," he roared, "not like you! You're not gay, you're just confused! I did not raise a fag!"

"Don't say that word!"

"I will say whatever I fucking want Blaine. You brought a fag into MY home, Blaine-not your home,-MY HOME." His dad was shoving him against the wall now, screaming right in his face.

"You think this is funny? This little perversion of yours? I don't. I did not raise you this way-to gallivant with other queers. You're not even trying to stop this!"

"DAD! I'm the same little boy you taught to throw a football! You used to love me! I miss that. I miss my dad, not this monster you've turned into. I still love you so much."

Blaine wasn't crying. His eyes had steeled. His dad looked at him, then let him go.

"I'm going out now," he mumbled, "I'll be back later."

Blaine took his phone out of his pocket, ready to call Dean, but saw that he had a text.

_Hey, my dad knows ur dad. He knows about me. im so sorry Blaine.-D._

_I kno. Just had an argument. Will call u in a few.-B._


	7. Conversations

**Short chapter is short. I couldn't make it longer without it feeling like it dragged more than it does. It's not my favorite, but I hope you all like it! I've appreciated the reviews and subscriptions :) You guys really do rock! It would be cool to get like one more right now-I'm at 9, and having 10 would give me big warm fuzzies. But, in all honesty, just knowing people are reading this is thrilling. Thank you everyone!**

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><p>"Father Hausen, we need to talk."<p>

"Brian," the priest started, a puzzled look on his face, "I would really prefer for you to make an appointment before barging into my office-what if I had been with another parishioner?"

"It's urgent, I need your help." Brian Anderson looked disheveled, more so than Father Hausen had ever seen him. "It's about Blaine."

"Yes, Blaine. What a nice young man. I do enjoy our weekly sessions. Let's chat," Father Hausen motioned for Mr. Anderson to sit down, "what do you need to know about Blaine?"

"The sessions, they're not working! He's still gay-is he even trying?" Brian buried his head in his hands. "He's flaunting it now-he brought one of-_them_-to our house today! Does he realize what he's doing?"

He looked up at the kindly old priest, expecting a sympathetic look. Instead he found a coldness that he hadn't ever seen before.

"Brian," Father Hausen said icily, "Blaine is a fine young man. Anyone would be happy to have him as a son. You're choosing to focus on one aspect of Blaine. That's incredibly small minded of you. Blaine is more than a homosexual-he's a violinist, a singer, and a wonderful, kind young man. Try to see the whole Blaine, not just who he loves."

"But Father-he's sinning!"

"Brian, I seriously doubt that Blaine has acted on his feelings. And if he had, would you love him any less? I do believe that the greatest commandment the Lord has left us with is to love."

"Father," Brian Anderson had started to cry, "I don't know if I can love him anymore."

Father Hausen stared at the elder Anderson for a moment. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could a parent not love their child? He stood up behind his desk, attempting to look intimidating.

"Brian, you may not like what I am about to say, but you must listen. What Blaine needs now is acceptance and love. It appears that he is getting hate thrown at him from everywhere-including his home, where he expects to be safe. He's been hurt at that school, and you didn't believe him-do not shake your head at me-he told me. I tried to help him. But he's not religious anymore, Brian, and I think the reason lies at home."

"We gave him everything! Everything! Why did he do this to us?" Brian Anderson was screaming at the older man.

"And now you must give him more. You must love him. You must be kind-do not look at me that way Brian! And he did not do this to you. He has known who he was for years, Brian, and those who were closest to him pushed him away. He's still a boy, and he's trying to figure out who he his."

"But he's not supposed to be like this…this isn't who he should be."

"That's your opinion, Brian, and you need to move beyond your narrow view of your son. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go say mass for those at St. Elizabeth's Nursing Home. If you need anything, I will be here to ask, but I will not force Blaine to be who he is not."

Father Hausen escorted Brian Anderson out of his office, slamming the door behind him. Brian walked to the parking lot, trying to collect his thoughts as he started his car and began to drive. He didn't see how he could accept Blaine for what he was. He had loved him so much, and had expected so many things for him. Why couldn't Blaine try harder? Didn't he know how hard he was making things for himself? For the family? If he acted normal, he wouldn't have problems with the jocks at school!

Brian had finally arrived home. He knew he should probably talk to Blaine, but he didn't know what to say. Would he tell him that he went to talk to Father Hausen? That he knew that Father Hausen hadn't been making Blaine try to be straight? He really just wanted what was best for Blaine.

He found himself outside of Blaine's door. He contemplated just walking past the door to his own bedroom, but he decided to knock.

"What!" Blaine's voice cracked as he spoke, leading Brian to think that he had been crying.

"Can I come in?"

"Why? So you can yell at me more? Tell me that I'm going to hell like everyone else? Are you going to call my friends fags too? I don't-"

"Blaine," Brian said gently, opening the door, "we need to talk."

"Why?" Blaine replied. "I thought we had already talked for the day, and really, I don't feel like fighting anymore today."

"I talked to Father Hausen."

"Oh. I guess you know that he really doesn't believe in the whole "you can make people straight" thing."

"I do. I know that he doesn't have as much of an issue with your…problem-"

"I'm gay, dad. It's not like I'm failing something. I'm not going to change." Blaine rolled his eyes.

"I'm not sure if I'm ready to accept that yet Blaine. I'm trying though. It's just-I had so many hopes for you and your life, and now I'm not sure if they'll happen."

Blaine looked like he's been punched. "You don't love me anymore," he sighed, "it's okay-it's just that nobody does anymore. I could disappear and nobody would give a-"

"That's not true Blaine! I still care about you so much, it's just hard to see you as the same person now."

"But I am the same person! I feel the same, I remember you the same, and I still love you so much! But maybe someday I'll get over that and then you can forget you ever had a son, since I'm such a disappointment. Until then, just get out, okay? I don't want to fight anymore."

"I'm leaving, but just know that if you need something, I'll try to make it work. I'm not saying that I'm ready to accept you, but you are my son."

"Cool dad-now can you please just leave? I have a concert I need to practice for."

"Concert? Didn't you just have your orchestra concert?" Brian looked puzzled.

"Oh, well, since you've decided to try being okay today, I'm in vocal jazz. Just do whatever you want with that. Yell at me, call me a fag, whatever. I'm going to sing though."

"Okay," Brian replied, his voice measured, "I'm disappointed for you lying to me, but if you're going to do this, I'll try to be there."

"Oh."

"I'll see you at dinner Blaine."

Brian closed the door, finally exhaling after what had seemed like forever. They were talking. It was a start.


	8. The Truth

A/N: Sorry it took so long! I've been having major writer's block for this fic for some reason! All my brain wants is fluffy!Klaine at the moment...it's a bit strange to tell the truth! Thanks for sticking with it though, I really appreciate all your kind reviews/favorites/alerts. You're all awesome! I'll be trying to update this more regularly again, I have a bit more time now. Hope you like it!

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><p>Blaine thanked whatever was out there in the universe for inventing music. At the end of a long day, there was something very comforting about putting his earbuds in and letting the music wash over him as he drifted off to sleep. He thought that music could solve everything. He hoped that if his dad just saw how happy he was while he sang with his vocal jazz group, he would be able to see past who he loved and see him as a whole.<p>

Unfortunately, things didn't quite go according to plan.

It had all gone well up until the end of the last song. They sang "Silent Night", and Blaine had the solo in the middle section of the arrangement. It was all in German and he sang it perfectly-the audience was in awe, the atmosphere was practically electric. It was all going so well…until Dean came and hugged Blaine at the end of the song. Blaine saw his dad's posture tighten and his eyes narrow. Blaine quickly backed away from the hug, not looking at Dean. How could he do that? He knew his dad was in the audience!

After the concert, Dean's and Blaine's dads were talking. Blaine overheard some of what they were saying.

"Was hoping it was just a phase…"

"There's still time, he'll grow out of it…"

"He hasn't even given girls a chance!"

"Dean either-I think it's some kind of rebellious thing!"

He knew this would come, but that didn't help him stop him from turning bright red, and he felt tears begin to cloud his eyes. He turned around to go into the bathroom, when he found Dean standing right in front of him, looking confused as to why he would be crying, then looked over and saw their fathers talking and realized what must have happened.

"Does it ever get any better?" Blaine choked out.

"I don't know," Dean replied absently, "I honestly don't."

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><p>"Blaine," his dad said through his teeth while driving home, "I know I said that I was going to try and be more…understanding of your little problem-"<p>

"Yeah, it certainly seemed that way from how you were talking to Judge Harmon!"

"What was I supposed to say? Your little display with that…boy…was disgusting! What are people going to think?"

"That my friend heard me sing a great solo and wanted to give me a hug? That I sang awesomely and deserved a congratulations, and since I obviously won't get it at home-"

"Shut the hell up, okay Blaine? Stop whining about something you did to yourself!"

The car fell quiet. Blaine leaned his head up against the window, the cold feeling nice on his burning face. Blaine cleared his throat, then decided to choose his words carefully.

"Dean and I aren't dating, Dad." Blaine's voice was calm and even. "Not every gay man wants to be with every gay guy, just like not every straight man wants to be with every girl. I consider Dean a friend-nothing more. My sexuality doesn't define me."

His dad laughed a cold, hollow laugh. "That's what Dean says too, according to Judge Harmon. How else are we supposed to define you? Straight people are defined by who they marry, and their families-"

"I hope I'm never defined by you," Blaine said, his voice becoming stronger, "because I would never do to anyone what you've done to me. Someday I'm going to have a wonderful HUSBAND, and be a great father. And you won't have anything to do with it. You won't get a chance to poison your grandchildren the way that you've tried to poison me."

They had reached the house by then, and Blaine stared at his father after his last statement, then calmly opened the door and walked in the house. He strolled calmly up to his room, locked the door behind him, then laid on his bed and screamed into his pillow. He didn't know where that courage had come from. He had never talked to his dad that way before. He couldn't believe how calm and collected he had been. He took his phone out of his pocket and checked it. One text from Dean.

_Sry about 2nite, idk what my dad was thinking. U okay?~D_

Blaine took a deep breath before typing his response.

_Yeah. I thought ur dad was okay with stuff now? What happened?~B_

Blaine's phone buzzed again.

_Can we meet 4 bkfst 2morrow? I'll tell u all about it.~D_

Blaine thought for a second before opening his door and shouting down the hall "I'm going out for breakfast with Dean tomorrow. You can say no, but then I'll just sneak out."

"Fine honey!" His mom answered. "Give her our love."

Wow. Well, just because his mom heard wrong didn't mean that it would be a no if it was with Dean.

_K. See you tomorrow morning. Can it be at like 6:30? I don't want my dad 2 kno.~B_

_Sure. I'll pick u up then. Im still sry about 2nite. U sang really awesome tho.~D_

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><p>True to his word, Dean picked Blaine up at 6:30 the next morning, before anyone else in the house was up.<p>

"Are we sneaking out, Mr. Anderson?" Dean teased, then added, "I just love contributing to the delinquency of minors."

"Hey, I left a note. They can read, I think."

"Let's hope so," Dean said, taking a deep breath, "because I would hate to be arrested for kidnapping."

They drove on to Denny's, both boys singing along with the radio, not talking about last night's incident. It wasn't until after they had ordered that Blaine brought it up.

"So," he said tentatively, "what exactly is going on?"

Dean looked around, scanning the restaurant for anyone they might know, then began to speak. "You know how I said that my dad just sort of leaves me alone now? Well, he does, he just makes those little comments. He doesn't even think about how much they might hurt me at all! Our dad's really aren't very different, Blaine. I thought if I told you that it got better, it would make you feel a lot better about stuff. I'm so sorry!"

Dean's normal composure had crumpled, and he had started to cry. "It's just hard, you know? Knowing that your dad will never love you again. He won't even hug me anymore! It's not like he's going to catch what I have! He thinks it's a choice, that I'm rebelling. How could he think that I'd want to be like this? Reviled by most of my family, outcast at school, and having no one to turn to when stuff gets rough? And then he has the audacity to wonder why I tried to kill myself…"

Blaine's mouth went dry. "You tried to kill yourself?"

"Yeah, my freshman year. That's when I came out," Dean explained, coldly, "took a handful of sleeping pills. I woke up in the fucking hospital. I wish they would have let me die."

The waitress brought their food over, looking at Dean sympathetically. "Can I help you sugar?" She said sweetly.

"Only if you can get him new parents," Blaine deadpanned, "but thanks for the food!"

She smiled sadly and walked away, putting her hand on Dean's shoulder as she walked by.

"Dean," Blaine said, gathering the composure that had started to come naturally to him, "is that why you started talking to me? Because I reminded you of yourself?"

"Yeah," Dean mumbled, avoiding eye contact, "you looked so lost…and to be honest, I heard Libby telling everyone and figured your dad made you quit choir and orchestra."

"Thank you," Blaine replied, starting to tear up, "I honestly wanted to die at that point."

"Thought so. I thought I could be like a mentor to you, since I've been through so much."

"Thanks," Blaine said, "it's really nice to know that I have one person in my corner."

"Same here, dude, same here."


	9. Christmas

A/N: Sorry for the long time, no update! I haven't been angsty as of late, so I was getting some humor out. I hope that you'll all forgive me, I'll be trying to update this more frequently. Thank you for sticking with it...I hope!

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><p>Looking at pictures of his family before he came out hurt Blaine. They all looked so happy, so loving. He traced his dad's smile with his finger and wondered if he'd ever do that again after what had happened. He thought it would all get better, like Dean had said. In reality, it had gotten worse.<p>

It was Christmas and Blaine had shut himself in his room so that the rest of the family wouldn't have to see him. He had been reminded not to mention his "problem" to anyone, so he figured it would be safest if he stayed locked away from everyone after what had happened earlier that night.

"Any girlfriends yet?" His grandmother had inquired.

"Boyfriends, probably," his aunt, who had had too much to drink, joked under her breath, "we all know little Blaine is different!"

Everyone started to laugh hysterically at his aunt's comment, except for his father, who shot him a look. Blaine felt hot tears welling in his eyes as his aunt continued.

"Told his father that Blaine was a little queer from the start," his aunt laughed on, "but no, nobody believed me-just look at him. I swear, you can tell with the gays, they give off a-"

"STOP!" Blaine shouted, and everything went deathly still.

"Did you just yell at me?" His aunt said, rising.

"No, no ma'am, I just-"

Blaine was interrupted by his aunt's hand smacking him across the face. "You don't speak to me like that, boy," she spat in his face, "fucking faggot."

The entire family was sitting in the living room in silence, watching Blaine for his reaction as his aunt sat back down. He was clutching his cheek, tears streaming down his face.

"So what if I am," he whispered, but he could tell his dad had heard him.

"Blaine," he warned, "come help me in the kitchen?"

"No," Blaine replied coldly, "I'll be in my room. Merry Christmas everyone."

As he ran up the stairs he heard his aunt's voice echoing through the house, "Ooo, the little princess is angry!"

As soon as Blaine had gotten to his room, he slammed the door behind himself and locked it. He'd been up here for a while, just looking at his old photo albums, hoping that if he closed his eyes and wished hard enough that none of this would have ever happened. He'd wake up tomorrow and his parents would look him in the eye, hug him, and tell him how much they loved him.

Blaine's thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"I'm not apologizing," he yelled from the bed, "you can't make me."

"Blaine, honey, I don't intend to make you apologize," said a kind, gentle voice, "but can you at least let me in?"

It was his grandma, which was somewhat relieving. At least if she was disappointed he'd just get a stern look, not be screamed at.

"Blainey, just let me in."

Blaine crossed his room and unlocked and opened his door. His grandmother stood there, two plates of cake in her hands. She looked at Blaine's tear-streaked face for a moment, then pushed past him to set the cake on his desk. She then took a seat on his bed, patting a spot next to her.

"Come here, precious boy," she cooed, "I think we should talk."

"Can I close the door again? I don't want anyone to hear," he whispered.

"Of course, Blainey, now come here."

He closed and locked the door again, then took a seat next to his grandma on the bed. She wrapped an arm around him. Blaine started to cry again.

"It's okay, it's okay," she murmured, rocking him, "tell Nana what's wrong."

"I'm gay," he choked out, "and now nobody loves me."

"Oh Blainey, I love you. Nothing will ever change that, honey."

"Really?" he looked up at her, and she gave him a kiss on his forehead.

"Of course not," she said, pulling him even tighter, "you could be a purple mass murderer, and I'd probably still love you."

"A purple mass murderer?" He laughed.

"Yep, a purple mass murderer," she tickled him, "now, the best cure for sadness is chocolate, so let's eat that cake."

She flitted over to his desk and picked up the cake and brought it back to the bed.

"Shh," she laughed, "don't tell your mother that we're eating on your bed!"

They were both laughing when they heard steps on the staircase. There was a knock at the door.

"Blaine! You get down here this instant and apologize to your aunt," his mother screeched.

"Open this door, young man! We will take away your computer privileges for a month if you aren't here in 1…2…-"

His grandmother had gotten up quickly and walked to the door, flinging it open angrily.

"Can we help you?" Her tone was icy.

"Well, mother," Blaine's mom began pointedly, "he needs to come downstairs and apologize! He shouldn't talk to his elders like-"

"Sarah," his grandmother said coolly, "Brian's boozy sister should be the one apologizing to Blaine. This poor little boy is under the impression that nobody in this house loves him. Care to explain to me why this is?"

His father's eyes pierced Blaine's own and he looked down. "Nothing that I can think of," he spat, "Susan."

"Brian Anderson," Blaine's grandmother's eyes narrowed, "I don't know what has gone on between you and your son, but you will put it aside. This family will have a Merry Christmas. We will be civil, we will love each other, we will open gifts, and then we will say our polite goodbyes and leave. Alright?"

Brian tried to stare her down, but failed. "Fine," he mumbled, "but Blaine comes down too. No moping in this room."

"Fine," Blaine's grandma said, "I think that's fair, do you Blaine?"

"Sure," he mumbled back.

She held out her hand to him. "Let's go then. We'll show that drunk what's what!"

Blaine laughed and took her hand. They walked down the stairs hand in hand, where his aunt glared at him.

"Look who's back," she yelled, "the little fairy!"

"Mary," his grandmother hissed, "you will stop that unless you want me to tell everyone a few things I know about you."

His aunt made like she was going to say something, then closed her mouth and rolled her eyes.

"Time to open presents! Blaine, will you hand them out?"

"Yes Nana," he squeezed her hand and broke away.

Overall it wasn't too bad. His aunt kept glaring at him, then stopped when his grandma would shoot her an icy stare. Blaine ended up getting a few movies, some video games, and of course, socks. After they were done opening presents, they all sat for a while, talking quietly. Eventually they started to leave. After they had all left, Blaine's father came up to him.

"I do love you Blaine," he sighed, messing Blaine's curls, "I just don't like the choices you make."

"I don't like your choices either, dad," Blaine replied coldly, "but I suppose we'll just have to deal with each other."

His dad stepped back. "I suppose we will," he murmured.


	10. Of Bathrooms and Black Eyes

A/N: I AM SO SORRY GUYS! For those of you who follow me on tumblr, you know that I haven't had internet since last Thursday. In gratitude for still reading, I will be uploading another chapter tonight. Thanks so much for still stopping by.

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><p>"I am so glad to be back at school," Blaine sighed, slamming his locker shut, "24 hours a day with my parents for two weeks was too much."<p>

"Me too." Dean had a faraway look in his eyes.

"Something wrong?" Blaine looked concerned.

"Nothing much…I was just wondering, do you think those ex-gay things work?"

"What? No, Dean, I don't think they do." Blaine stared at Dean. "Why?"

"It's nothing," Dean mumbled, starting to walk down the hallway, "just forget I said anything."

"Dean," Blaine had to practically run to catch up with him, "no, just tell me what's wrong."

"I said forget it Blaine! So just drop it, okay?"

"It doesn't sound like nothing," Blaine snapped back at him, "now why the hell are you acting like this?"

"Maybe I just want to be fucking normal! I want my dad to look me in the eye, and not just say that he loves me to keep up appearances!"

"You don't think that I don't know what that's like?" Blaine roared back at Dean, who looked surprised. "Do you think I enjoy being called a fag by my dad? Do you think I live to see him look at me like he's disappointed? Do you know how much it hurts when my aunt calls me a fairy and he takes her side? What about when my mom asks me about girls? Do you think that that's just awesome for me? You're not the only one with shitty parents, Dean!"

"I'm sorry, Blaine, I'm sorry," Dean was looking at his shoes, "but maybe we shouldn't do this in the hallway. People are watching."

"They know. They all know. It's not like they won't talk to me because I'm a leper. They know that I'm gay, they know that you're gay, and you know what? They're just going to blame this on me being an angry queer."

Blaine stomped down the hallway, trying not to cry. He just needed to make it to the bathroom, then he could cry. Blaine finally ran into the bathroom, locking himself in the handicapped stall. He heard footsteps come in after him.

"Blaine," Dean sighed, "Blaine, I know you're in here. I can hear you crying. Please, don't cry."

"Leave me alone," Blaine sobbed, "I don't need you! Just leave."

Blaine heard Dean walk right up to the handicapped stall. "Blaine, I'm really sorry. I didn't think-"

"You're right, you didn't. Did you think my dad sent me to counseling for my own benefit? Don't you think I would change if I could? Just go."

"I didn't know your dad sent you to counseling," Dean mumbled, "and I'm not leaving until you come out of that stall. Do you have any idea how pathetic this looks?"

"Oh, now I'm pathetic. Well excuse me if the only other gay guy I know has decided that he wants to try to think himself straight."

"Blaine-" Dean had started when Blaine swung the door to the stall open, hitting Dean in the head.

"What the fuck, Blaine!" Dean shouted, clutching his head.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry! Let me see it, come on."

"No, you'll just hurt it more! Don't touch it."

They both heard the bell ring.

"And now we're late to orchestra because of your little emotional outburst," Dean spat, while still clutching his head, "I hope you're happy."

"I'm really sorry," Blaine responded sheepishly, "oh my God!"

"What?" Dean had just stopped clutching his head.

"Your eye. Oh my God, I'm so sorry."

Dean slowly walked over to the mirrors to inspect the damage. "Jesus Christ! You gave me a black eye with the door!"

"I really am sorry."

"You owe me. I can't believe you gave me a black eye. You owe me so much. Your firstborn or adopted or whatever is sounding good right about now."

"I'm sorry," Blaine sounded exasperated, "we really should get to orchestra. Even if you sit in the back of the violas, I am the concertmaster."

"Yes, your highness. I won't even tell them that you hit me with a door."

"It was an accident!"

"Come on," Dean said, "oh, wait, let me get the door so you don't HIT anybody with it!"

"That's low."

"Says the boy who hit me with the door." Dean was holding the door wide open and gesturing towards the hallway. "Quick, we don't want to get caught by the hall supervisor."

"You're a jackass," Blaine muttered as he exited the bathroom.

"That may be, but at least I didn't hit you with a door."

* * *

><p>Orchestra was uneventful, Ms. Martin was angry at them for being late, but she didn't give them a detention or anything. She did question them about the black eye, though. When she heard the story, she started laughing hysterically. Apparently she had done the same thing to one of her friends in high school.<p>

At lunch, Dean plopped down next to Blaine and announced, "You're taking me to the Sadie Hawkins dance. THAT will make up for the black eye."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? We're two guys-"

"And, as you so eloquently shouted this morning," Dean interrupted, "everyone knows we're gay. It's not like they haven't noticed."

"Okay, okay! We'll go. You'll have to drive though, seeing as I'm fifteen."

"Nope. I had my car taken away at Christmas for calling my grandpa 'a fucking homophobe'. Ask your dad."

"He'll drop me off, we can meet there, then he can pick us both up, deal?"

"I don't know…I feel a concussion coming on from someone hitting me with a-"

"God, I'm never going to live this down, am I?"

"Not likely," Dean replied, "but yeah, we'll just have your dad pick us up at the end. That should work."

"Good. Now can we stop with the door thing? I said I was sorry."

"I'll forgive you more if you buy me an ice cream."

"Fine, you whiner."

* * *

><p>"Um, dad?" Blaine had knocked on the doorway to his dad's study.<p>

"Yes, Blaine," his dad answered, not looking up from whatever he was studying.

"I was wondering…I was going to go to the Sadie Hawkins dance with a group…and could you give me a ride? It's in two weeks on a Friday night."

"Fine," his dad looked up then asked, "you're not going with that Harmon boy, are you?"

"No dad," Blaine quickly lied, "he'll be in the group, but he won't be my date or anything."

"Okay, then sure, you can go. Do we need to get you a tuxedo ?"

"No dad, it's not a super formal thing. I'll just wear a shirt and tie."

"Good. Can you leave now? I'm busy with this brief right now and don't have time for this."

"Fine," Blaine muttered, leaving, "whatever. Not like you care anyway."

Brian Anderson ran his hand through his hair. When was Blaine going to learn to pick a different group? _He's going to get himself hurt hanging out with these people, _Brian thought, _he needs to stop it with this phase._


	11. The Sadie Hawkins Dance

A/N: I fully intended to have this up on Thursday, but unfortunately I couldn't get it just right. This was the hardest chapter to write thus far (but is my favorite), and I want to thank you all for sticking with it. I appreciate any comments/suggestions you may have, so feel free to drop me a line. :)

Warning: This chapter contains a violent scene with gay bashing. Just letting you know.

* * *

><p>"Do I look okay?" Blaine quickly asked his mom before leaving with his dad.<p>

"I'd be surprised if you don't bring a girl back," she answered, winking.

Blaine just rolled his eyes as his dad shut the door behind them. They walked in silence to the car, the only sound was the snow crunching beneath their feet. They got into the car and Blaine's dad started it, then pulled out of the driveway.

"So," his dad attempted to break the silence, "any cute girls in your group?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "There are a couple of pretty girls in the group, yes."

"Got your eye on one?" He jabbed him in the arm with his elbow.

"No," Blaine answered, "because I'm gay. Remember, I came out?"

"Blaine," Brian sighed, "you could at least try."

"Yeah, I know, you've told me. Just drop me off at the dance and pretend I'm going with a girl, alright?"

"Blaine, I just want what's best for-"

"No, you want what's best for the "perfect family" image you've created. Don't pretend that this is about me at all. This is all about-"

"Blaine, you're going to get yourself hurt! You're going to end up like that kid out in Wyoming!"

"Dad," Blaine said, measured anger in his voice, "I'll be fine, I can take care of myself."

"You don't know that! There are people out there who want to hurt you for this…thing!"

"Well dad, this thing is a part of me, and if you can't handle it, that's okay. You get rid of me in three years. You won't have to worry about me after I turn-"

"Blaine! I just want you to be careful tonight, okay?"

"Fine, whatever," Blaine replied, "we're here now. I'll see you at home, Mr. Harmon is picking me up with Dean."

"Be back by 11. Just remember-"

"I know, be careful."

Blaine walked into the gym and spotted Dean and the rest of the vocal jazz kids.

"Hey guys," he said, walking up to them, "how's it going?"

"Pretty uneventfully," Dean replied, "nobody's managed to spike the punch yet. By the way, this is for you."

Dean had thrust a small, plastic container that had a boutonniere in it into Blaine's hands. The flower matched the one that Dean had pinned to his shirt.

"You didn't have to…I thought that we agreed no flowers! And I should be the one to get you the flowers-I gave you a black eye!"

"Hey, I knew you couldn't go out and get one, so I got one for each of us."

"Thanks," Blaine said, attempting to pin the flower to his shirt, then giving up. "Ugh, a little help, someone?"

"Here," Dean said, taking the flower and pinning it to Blaine's shirt, "at least one of us isn't completely incompetent."

"Hey," Blaine replied, slapping him playfully on the arm, "I'm not completely incompetent!"

"Says the boy who hit me with a stall door."

"Wimp."

"Abuser."

"Okay guys, just stop," Angela interrupted, "we know Blaine hit you with a door, Dean, and he's apologized. And Blaine, you gave him a BLACK EYE! He took it fairly well."

"But he still brings it up!"

"To be fair, it took it a week to fade."

Dean was doubled over in laughter. "Okay, okay," he wheezed, "we can stop talking about it. I don't have a black eye anymore."

"Thank you, Dean," Angela said, "at least one of you is being mature."

"I'm mature!"

"Says the tiny freshman who hit me with a door," Dean replied.

"Ookay guys, let's go get some punch," Angela started to drag them towards a table.

"As long as there are no doors," Dean muttered.

"I heard that!"

* * *

><p>The rest of the dance went fairly well. He and Dean would dance with their group to the fast songs, then break away and not dance for the slow songs (they didn't want to risk it). They'd sit on the bleachers on the side of the gym, sipping their punch and talking about choir and orchestra. It isn't until the last slow dance of the night that Dean nudges Blaine.<p>

"Wanna dance? You didn't think you'd get away with not dancing with me, did you?"

"Bb..but what if someone sees us?" Blaine whispered, looking into Dean's eyes.

"They haven't said anything all night," he whispered back, wrapping his arm around Blaine's waist as they both stood, "now let's dance."

It was a little awkward at first, due to the seven inch height difference, but Blaine eventually wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, and Dean put his hands on either side of Blaine's waist. They eventually found a rhythm and were swaying to the beat. Dean pulled Blaine in closer.

"You don't have to be afraid, you know I won't hurt you," Dean murmured, removing his hands from Blaine's waist and completely encircling him with his arms instead, "I don't think anyone cares."

Blaine took the hint and moved closer to Dean, resting his head on his chest. "Thank you. And I am sorry for hitting you with the door."

Dean laughed and Blaine felt it against himself. "Way to ruin our moment, Blaine. But I'm sorry for being insufferable and making you come to a lame high school dance."

"It wasn't lame," Blaine whispered, "I was here with you."

The song ended and Dean kissed the top of Blaine's head softly. They didn't move for a moment, just enjoying being close. Dean gave Blaine one last squeeze, then dropped his arms slowly.

"Hey," he said quietly, "do you want to get some air? My dad'll be here in like a half hour."

"Sure," Blaine replied nervously. Dean had kissed the top of his head. What if he liked him? He had hugged him even after the dance had ended. He had to like him. That was it.

Dean wrapped an arm around Blaine's waist and led him out the doors of the gym and into the parking lot. They sat on one of the benches outside, even though it was thirty degrees out and neither of them had a coat. Blaine sat a reasonable distance away from Dean.

"I don't bite, you know," Dean laughed, patting the bit of bench next to him.

"Sorry," Blaine moved closer and Dean wrapped his arm around him.

"Hey," Dean said quietly, "you don't have to be sorry."

Blaine nestled his head against Dean's chest, listening to his heartbeat. "Is this okay?"

"Blaine, it's okay," Dean said, ruffling Blaine's curls, "by the way, whatever shampoo you use is amazing. It smells great."

Blaine laughed, "It's just some shampoo for curly hair."

"Well I like it."

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes before Blaine hesitantly asked a question. "Dean, have you ever kissed a guy?"

Dean shifted, but didn't remove his arm from around Blaine. "Yeah…my dad sent me to this camp to make me straight the summer after eighth grade. Didn't really work. Why, have you?

"No," Blaine replied nervously, "and Iwasjustwondering."

"What was that," Dean laughed, "just wondering, huh?"

Blaine pulled away from Dean. "That was stupid, sorry."

"Hey, hey," Dean responded, pulling Blaine back to him, "it wasn't stupid. I always forget that you're kind of new to the whole…gay thing."

Blaine nestled back against Dean's chest. "Would you…no…"

"Would I what, Blaine?"

"It's nothing, seriously forget it," Blaine had turned bright red and felt warm, even though it was freezing outside.

"It doesn't sound like nothing."

"Fine," Blaine sighed, sitting up to face Dean on the bench, "would you be willing to…willing to…"

"Come on Blaine, the sooner you spit it out, the sooner we can get back to cuddling."

"Okay," Blaine took a deep breath, "canyoukissme?"

Dean laughed, "Sure, Blaine."

"Really?" Blaine squeaked, his eyes lighting up.

"I mean, we're good friends, so it doesn't have to be a super romantic thing, right?"

"Yeah, sure, I guess."

"Okay."

Dean inched closer to Blaine. Blaine closed his eyes and waited for their lips to touch. They were almost there when something whooshed past Blaine's ear and he heard Dean scream.

"Hey!" Dean shouted, wiping what looked like the remains off a snowball of his cheek, "What the fuck is wrong with you guys?"

Blaine snapped his eyes open and turned around. Six jocks were approaching the bench where he and Dean sat.

"I don't know, fairy boy," the largest said, "maybe it's because you and your fucking faggy boyfriend couldn't get a room."

"Yeah," another one sneered, "we saw you dancing. I bet you thought nobody would notice that shit. Stupid homos."

"Just fuck off, we're leaving in like ten minutes," Dean said, shaking, "then you won't have to deal with us. Why don't you just-"

Dean was cut off by another snowball to his face. The jocks started running towards them.

"Once we're done with you," the big one said, "you're never gonna come back here."

"Just leave us alone!" Blaine shouted. "We didn't do anything to you!"

"We didn't do anything to you," the jock repeated mockingly, "leave us alone…God, fags like you should just go and make your own homo island and leave the rest of us alone."

"Jesus Christ," Dean yelled, still reeling from the last snowball, "just go. We're not doing anything, just leave us the-"

Dean was silenced by one of the jocks, who had punched him square in the face. Blaine heard a sickening crunch when the fist had hit Dean's face. His nose had definitely been broken.

Dean clutched at his face, "Run Blaine," he yelled, "just go!"

"No," Blaine shouted back, standing to face the jocks, "if they're here to beat up 'fags' they can have me too."

"No, no Blaine, just go."

Blaine felt his courage falter when he felt himself being dragged off the bench by his hair. He writhed, trying to shake off the jock that was holding him. He had started to cry.

"Oh look, the little queer's crying for his mommy! Well, we can stop that."

The jock threw Blaine onto the ground and started kicking him. There was a well-placed kick to Blaine's side and he felt like his chest was on fire. They had broken his ribs. He clutched at his sides, beginning to softly cry, "Stop, stop…"

"Stop!" Dean screamed, "Stop it! He's just a kid!"

"Oh look fag boy, you're boyfriend's worried about you."

The jock spit in Blaine's face. Blaine grabbed at his side with the broken rib and tried to get up, but ended up slipping on some ice and falling.

"Looks like he was trying to get away…we'll make sure that doesn't happen again."

Blaine looked back at Dean, who was laying on the ground. Blood was pouring out of his nose, and he looked like he was about to say something when a jock stomped on his leg, which gave a sickening crack. Dean howled.

"Looks like that one's almost done for," the big jock said, "let's make sure no one can recognize him."

"Please, please don't," Blaine murmured, crying, "just stop."

The jock smiled malevolently at Blaine, then looked back at Dean. He looked down at Dean and whispered, "You're not even gonna remember your fucking name."

The jock brought one foot up, then crashed it down on Dean's head hard. Blaine saw Dean go limp.

"No! No! You killed him, you assholes!" Blaine was screaming at the top of his lungs. Why couldn't anyone hear him? Didn't they care?

"Oh we didn't kill him," another one of them said, "but once we're done with you, you're gonna wish you were dead."

They all crossed to Blaine and started kicking him, hard. He felt one of them kick him right in the elbow, and he felt it go what he thought was backwards. He kept screaming and screaming but no one came. They just kept kicking. Blaine felt the pressure of one of them sitting on his chest.

"No, no," he murmured, weak from the beating and his broken ribs, "stop, stop."

"You like me laying on you, don't you queer," the jock said, "well, you're not gonna like it much after this."

The boy took heavy, heavy swings at his face. Blaine felt blood trickling out of his nose and down his face. He couldn't tell if they were breaking anything more because of the extreme pain emanating from his chest. He started to drift in and out of consciousness, and the last thing he heard was a panicked voice screaming.

"Get off of him! Oh my God, no Dean, no!"

* * *

><p>Blaine woke up once in the ambulance and started to thrash.<p>

"Let me go! Let me go! I want to see my parents!"

"Shh, shh," the paramedic cooed, "we're almost there, we're almost there."

Blaine slammed back against the stretcher and passed out again.

* * *

><p>The next time he awoke, he was lying in a bright yellow room with cartoon characters all over the walls. He looked around. His mom was sleeping in the corner in a chair. He looked to his left. His dad was sitting with his head in his hands.<p>

"Dad," he rasped, reaching out for his father.

"Oh my God, Blaine," his dad raised his head, and Blaine saw that his eyes were rimmed in red, "oh my God, I'm so sorry…I should have never let you go-I should have known this would happen."

He reached out and grabbed Blaine's hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm going to make sure no one hurts you again."

"Dad," Blaine said again, his voice a little less hoarse, "what happened to Dean?"

"Dean's fine," his dad replied, "he has a pretty bad concussion, a broken leg, and a couple of broken ribs. Now, we need to talk-"

"I'm glad he's okay. Now what?"

"Blaine, you're not going back there. We're sending you somewhere else. You can't…I can't send you back there. Those guys could have killed you!"

"Dad, it's okay, I'll be fine." Blaine was feeling very sleepy again. "Ugh, so tired."

"You're on a bunch of stuff for pain," his dad gave a small laugh and squeezed Blaine's hand again, "just sleep. We'll talk about this in the morning."

"Love you dad," Blaine murmured, drifting off.

"I love you too, Blaine," his dad whispered, wiping tears from his eyes.


	12. Healing

A/N: I am so so sorry this took so long to put up, I was almost done with it and then had some computer issues which meant that I lost most of this. :( I do have this chapter done, and the next is already half done, so that should be up tomorrow. Thank you so much for putting up with me again. :) You guys are simply amazing.

* * *

><p>Blaine woke up to yelling in the hallway outside his hospital room. He decided to keep his eyes closed and just listen to the exchange<p>

"No, we are pressing charges!" That was definitely his dad yelling.

The next voice was quieter, "It wasn't that bad of an incident. He just has a couple cracked ribs, a broken nose and a dislocated elbow."

"He passed out! He passed out from the beating that those assholes gave him! We are taking this to court!"

"Sir, we don't know exactly who it was who was hitting your son, so-"

"Judge Harmon saw them! He saw those boys, and I'm sure Blaine will be able to-"

"Sir, Judge Harmon was distraught at seeing his son lying on the ground unconscious, he doesn't know exactly what he saw. And Blaine wasn't conscious when the paramedics arrived, so we can't be sure he saw what he thought he did."

Blaine stopped pretending to be asleep and sat bolt upright. "I know who they were! I know who they were!" he squeaked out.

"Shh, honey," his mother crossed the room, smoothing the curls out of his face, "it's okay, your dad's talking to them."

Blaine fell back against the bed. Why wouldn't they let him talk? Blaine and his mom listened to the exchange in the hallway.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me! What do you suggest we do then? Let them all go free after what they did to my son?"

"Sir, there's nothing we can do, our hands are tied."

"Oh, they will be when my firm gets this case! This was a hate crime, and you know it. You just don't want to do the work because you see my son as no more than another fag who deserves it! You make me sick."

His dad entered the room, "Fucking small town cops," he muttered under his breath, "just wait until I get this case to trial."

"Brian," his mom cleared her throat, "Blainey's awake."

"Hey buddy," his dad instantly softened and crossed to his bed, rustling his hair gently, "how are we doing?"

"Dad, I know the guys who attacked me! I know all their names, if they would just let me-"

"Blaine," his dad sighed, "just let me take care of it. We'll get this to trial, and this will all be taken care of for you."

"Fine," Blaine collapsed against the bed again, "so when do I get out? And how long have I been here? I have to get back to school!"

"Slow down buddy, first of all, you get out tomorrow, it's Sunday, so you've only been here since Friday night, you had surgery yesterday-"

"I had surgery? Why didn't you tell me?"

"We did, but you've been on painkillers, so I don't think you remember," his dad laughed, "you have pins in your arm, they'll be in for about a month."

"What about school?"

"Blainey," his mom said gently, "you're not going back there. You're going to Dalton, just like your Grandpa George and Uncle Eric. They have a policy that means you'll be safe."

"But Dalton's like two hours away! Won't I have to drive there every day?"

"You'll be boarding," his dad answered, "you'll be safe there though."

"You're trying to get rid of me too!"

"Blaine, honey, we're not! We just want you to be safe. You can't go back to that school!"

"Fine," Blaine huffed, "but dad said that he'd sue them! And can't I go to St. Stephen's? That's just a town over!"

"Buddy, we're not sending you to Catholic school," his dad rubbed his temples, looking frustrated, "you'll be safe at Dalton. I…I don't know if we'll be able to get those boys the punishment they deserve."

"They beat Dean and me up," Blaine looked confused, "they can't go free. You said you'd sue them!"

"Blaine, it's way more complicated than that. Their fathers are prominent members of the community, and this is Ohio, Blaine. You went to a dance with a boy and you expected it to be okay?"

"Whatever," Blaine replied coldly, crossing his arms, "I guess I'll just have to get used to people hating me and having less rights than everyone else. Come to think of it, you both seem to have had a change of heart."

His parents glanced at each other, not knowing what to say.

"Blainey, we-I honestly thought it was a rebellious thing," his mom sighed, "you've always been such a good boy, I thought that this was your way of doing something."

"You're my son," his dad said quietly, "I can't imagine what we would do without you. I just-I thought it was a phase. But are you still? After all this?"

"Dad, they can't beat the gay out of me," Blaine rolled his eyes, "and I'm not gay to punish you, I'm gay because I like guys."

"Okay," his dad sighed, "well, you'll be starting at Dalton on Wednesday."

"That soon?"

"Well honey, we don't want you to miss out on too much," his mother answered, "plus Nana got you in. She'll be here soon too! She's taking you to Dalton since she's still on good terms with the headmaster from when Uncle Eric went there."

"Uncle Eric graduated like twenty years ago! What if I'm not good enough for Dalton? What if I'm not enough like Uncle-"

"You're in already, buddy, don't worry. Why don't you get some more sleep?"

"I'm fine!" He tried to sit up, but grimaced and slumped back onto the bed.

"Blainey, be careful! You'll hurt yourself."

"Fine," said Blaine dejectedly, "can I at least see Dean?"

"I'll talk to Judge Harmon," his dad answered, "but no promises."

"Whatever," Blaine said, turning onto his uninjured side and drifting off to sleep.

"Hey sleepyhead, get up! I didn't wheel myself down to your room for nothing."

Blaine blinked his eyes open and rolled onto his back. "Dean, is that you?"

"No, it's the ghost of fucking Christmas past, I'm just a month late. Yes it's me. Woah, you wear glasses?"

"Ugh," said Blaine, putting his glasses on, "yes, I wear glasses, and how are you so happy? You got it worse than I did."

"Painkillers are a beautiful thing, and also, I'd gotten used to be hit in the face after someone hit me with a door!"

"Oh my God, you are not bringing that up as I'm lying in a hospital bed."

"I just did. So, in all seriousness, how are you?"

"Well, I have pins in my arm, my chest feels like it's on fire, my face hurts, and I just found out that I'm moving two hours away from my parents. So, you know, it's just fabulous. How are you doing?"

"Wait, why are you moving away from your parents? They didn't kick you out, did-"

"No, they didn't kick me out," Blaine snapped back, "I'm transferring to Dalton Academy, it's in Westerville."

"You're running away then?"

"What? I'm not running away! Do you realize those guys could have killed us?"

"But they didn't, you're just running away like a little bitch," Dean coldly replied, his eyes locking with Blaine's.

"What if they do next time? I don't want to go to a school where I'm bullied on a daily basis. It'll get worse now that they know for sure what I am!"

"Yeah, because my life is going to be super easy being the only gay kid at the school," Dean spat, "but you know, as long as you're safe, then it's all okay. Just because mommy and daddy want you-"

"Shut up!" Blaine shouted, then winced, clutching his side, "My parents just want me to be safe, and that's a bad thing? You could transfer too, you know, your family has enough-"

"No, I'm not transferring because I have the balls to stay and face the people who did this to me, unlike someone else I know."

"But, but what if it gets worse?"

"I'll be fine," Dean replied, wheeling himself out of Blaine's room, "have fun at Dalton, Blaine, I'm sure you'll love your little fortress."

"Dean," Blaine yelled after him halfheartedly, "just come back, come back!"

Blaine waited a couple of minutes, but when Dean didn't return, he just settled against his bed and turned the TV. He decided on Maury for something mindless.

"I see we're watching quality television, Blainey."

"Grandma? What are you doing here?" Blaine sat up a little too quickly and grabbed his side.

"Well, I'm taking you to Dalton on Tuesday, and I needed to make sure my Blainey was okay," she ruffled his curls and bent down kiss his forehead.

"I thought I didn't start at Dalton until Wednesday though, why would you take me on Tuesday?"

"You silly boy," she chuckled, "we have to make your dorm room a home! You'll be staying in a single, I hope you don't mind-I pulled a few strings."

"You didn't have to do-"

"It was nothing, sugar," she said, still smoothing Blaine's curls, "considering your Papa Georgie left them three million in his will, it's the least they could do."

"Oh. I suppose that's okay then."

"Are you okay with this honey? You don't seem too excited."

"I'm sorry," Blaine sighed, "it's just that…well, I feel like I'm running away."

His grandmother frowned, "Sweetheart, sometimes leaving is harder than staying, so-"

"That's the thing," Blaine interrupted, "I don't know if it is hard. This is the easy thing. I'm being a coward."

"Honey, self-preservation is not cowardice. You're going to love Dalton, and you'll get a great education."

"I suppose," he sighed, "you don't think I'm running away though?"

"No, I don't sweetie," she replied, kissing the top of his head, "now you have fun with your trashy television, and we'll be back to take you home tomorrow."

"Thanks nana," Blaine murmured sleepily.

"Bye bye Blainey," she whispered, leaving the room.

Blaine turned the volume on the TV back up. If there was one good thing about Maury, it had to be the ability to make him feel better, because even if he was lying in a hospital bed, at least he wasn't testing the twentieth man to see who his baby's father was.

After watching three episodes of Maury and eating the most disgusting meatloaf ever for dinner, Blaine fell into a dreamless (and painkiller induced) sleep.

"Are you sure you can get into the car? I can probably lift you, you're small enough."

"Dad," Blaine rolled his eyes, "I didn't even do anything to my legs."

"You never know," his dad replied, looking concerned, "what if there's something-"

"Dad, they let me walk around the hospital, I think I can make it from the doors to the car."

"Okay, if you're sure."

Blaine rolled his eyes again and got up from the wheelchair and started to walk across the parking lot to his dad's SUV.

"Wait up!" Blaine felt a strong arm wrap around his shoulders, "Don't you think you're taking it a little fast?"

"Seriously dad, I can walk the hundred feet to the car." Blaine sighed, then looked up at him, "You have your arm around me."

"Yeah, I do. Are you sure you're okay? Are you having problems with confusion? Do you need to go-"

"Dad, no, it's just weird…you haven't really done anything like this since October."

"Oh," they had finally reached the car and his dad opened the door for him, "wait a second, buddy."

Blaine was not expecting his dad to spin him around and pull him in to a firm but gentle embrace. "I am so sorry Blaine. I may not be entirely comfortable with…this yet, but you are my son. And I do love you."

Blaine didn't realize he was crying as he wrapped his arms around his dad, "I love you too dad. I missed you."

"Okay, well," his dad said, releasing Blaine and wiping tears from his eyes, "we should go home. Your grandma and mother are making a big homecoming lunch for you."

"Sounds good," Blaine grinned as he hoisted himself into the car.

The ride home was spent mostly in silence, except for when they passed the high school. Blaine gave an involuntary shudder.

"You okay, bud?"

"Yeah dad," Blaine replied, voice thick with tears, "I really thought that I might die that night."

"We were so scared when we got the call from the ER," his dad said, "we're so happy you're okay."

"I thought maybe I deserved it, like you said, I did go to a dance with a boy."

His dad remained silent, but a pensive look appeared on his face for the rest of the ride home. Blaine moved to get out of the car after he parked, but heard his dad murmur, "Stop."

"What?" Blaine asked, "I need to get to lunch before mom and nana think something's happened."

"Blaine, they'll be fine," he sighed, "I just…I'm sorry I said that. I mean, I don't think it was a good idea to go to a dance with a boy, but that didn't mean that three huge jocks should have beaten the crap out of you."

"I know dad," Blaine gazed directly into his eyes, "it sucks, but that's life. It sucks, then you die."

His dad laughed at the last bit, "Well, hopefully it doesn't suck all the time. Now let's go get some lunch."


	13. Dalton

A/N: And another chapter. Thank you all for your lovely reviews, they make my day! I love hearing from you all. :)

So...you get fluff in this chapter! Yay fluff! It's mainly at the end, and is provided by Wes and David.

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><p>Blaine felt weird packing up the room he had lived in for the last fifteen years. He didn't take as much as he thought he would, leaving the room looking like he lived there. Most of his favorite posters were gone, yes, but it still looked like a teenage boy's room. He carried his last suitcase down the stairs to load it into his grandma's car.<p>

"Now Blainey, you call us right when you get to Dalton," his mother said, hugging him.

"Make sure you remember," his dad added, patting him on the back.

"I will," he replied, trying not to cry, "and I'll make sure that I send you pictures of my room so you can see, it'll look great."

"Come on sweetie," said his grandmother gently, "we're supposed to be at Dalton by noon so that we can get everything sorted out."

"Okay," Blaine gave his parents one last hug, "I'll see you guys in two weeks?"

"Yep, buddy, we'll be there! Now get a move on, we want you to make a good first impression."

Blaine climbed into the car and buckled himself in while his grandma said her goodbyes.

"Ready to go, sugar?" She asked as she climbed into the car.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he answered, smiling.

She started the car and Blaine grimaced when the radio came on. Country music, of course.

"Honey," said Nana, "you can change the station if you want."

"But you like this, so we can-"

"Look," she interrupted, pulling out of the driveway, "we have a two hour drive, and I know that you aren't Garth Brooks' biggest fan. Change the station, or put in a cd, I know you have at least fifty with you."

"Is Mika okay?"

"Who's Mika? Does she sing nice?"

"Mika's a boy, Nana, and yes, he sings nice."

Blaine popped in the CD and began singing Grace Kelly along with Mika in a high falsetto.

"Doesn't sound like a boy to me," she laughed, "but your voice is gorgeous. You should join the Warblers."

"The Warblers? Who are they?"

"They're Dalton's a cappella choir. Maybe we could get you an audition when we talk to the headmaster today."

"I don't know," said Blaine hesitantly, "I mean, I was in vocal jazz, but Dalton is such a good-"

"And you have a good voice, honey. I'm sure they'd be happy to have you, seeing as you are a legacy student not only to Dalton, but to the Warblers."

"Uncle Eric was in the Warblers?"

"Uncle Eric **and** Papa Georgie were both in the Warblers. Your Great-Great Grandpa Edward was a founding member."

"Woah," Blaine breathed.

"Yep, sugar, Dalton's practically in your blood."

Blaine remained silent for a few minutes, listening to the soothing strings of Any Other World as he gazed out the window.

"Something interesting out there?" Nana smiled.

"No," Blaine sighed, "what if no one likes me at Dalton? I know that they can't hurt me, but what if they don't even talk to me? What if-"

"Honey," Nana said, grabbing his hand gently (it was his left arm that had the pins in it), "you can't obsess about the what-ifs. As for people not liking you, I don't see how you could think that-"

"Nobody liked me at Monroe."

"Sweetheart, Dalton Academy is not Monroe Junior-Senior. I honestly don't see why your parents sent you there in the first place. Now, things at Dalton are going to be different, yes. But it will be a good different. You're going to get a great education, and you'll have so many friends that you won't know what to do with yourself."

"You think?"

"I know, honey. You're a smart, wonderful boy, and they'd be silly not to be your friend."

"What if they think I'm only transferring to Dalton because I'm gay and it's an all boy's school?"

"What?" Nana started laughing uncontrollably, "Oh my goodness Blaine, how do you come up with these things?"

"They might! They'll think that I'm just there to find a boyfriend!"

"Honey," she replied, still giggling, "they won't, kids at Dalton are smart enough to know that just talking to you won't make them gay. Your cute little face might though!"

"Nana!" Blaine shouted, turning bright red.

"I was kidding! You are a cutie though. It's nice to see you decided to tame the jungle that is your hair this morning though. But you do know that a little gel goes a long way, right?"

"It wouldn't stay down though! I don't want them to think that I have weird hair."

"You don't have weird hair, Blainey; you have curly hair, just like your dad."

"Dad doesn't have any hair."

"Good point sweetheart, but when he did, he had just as much curly hair as you."

They drove for another hour, sharing jokes, stories, and laughter. They only stopped when Blaine's side started hurting so bad from laughing.

"Well, Blainey, we're here."

Blaine looked out the window at the imposing building. The school even had a front gate that Nana had to stop at and present Blaine and her IDs.

"Thank you, ma'am, and welcome to Dalton, Blaine," the security guard said, smiling.

"Thank you sir," Blaine replied, giving a small smile back as Nana started the car up the long driveway to the school.

"Okay, sweetie, we'll leave your bags out here for right now," she said, getting out of the car, "we need to meet the headmaster first."

"Okay," Blaine nervously got out of the car, "are you sure they let me in?"

"Yes they let you in, now let's go," said Nana, taking his hand and leading him up the steps. She went up to a call box and hit a button and they were buzzed in. A slim Asian boy wearing what must be the Dalton uniform met them behind the huge double doors.

"Hello Mrs. Jackson," the boy began, taking Nana's arm, before turning to Blaine, "welcome to Dalton, Blaine. I'm Wes Montgomery, and I'm an assistant to Headmaster Warner. If you'll both please follow me, we'll head to his office."

Blaine followed Wes and his grandmother, who was still arm and arm with Wesley, talking animatedly about how good it was to be back at Dalton and carrying on the family tradition. Blaine was entranced by the artwork and the practically cavernous hallways.

"Well, here we are," Wes said, leading them into what Blaine assumed was the headmaster's office, but turned out to be the annex. "I'll leave you both here; you'll have some paperwork to fill out to finalize the transfer. I'll check if Headmaster Warner is ready for you."

Wes slipped away and into a side door as Blaine and Nana approached the secretary's desk.

"Hello, Mr. Anderson, Mrs. Jackson," the secretary smiled, "Wes was mistaken about the paperwork, we have that all sorted out. Here is the key to your dorm room, Blaine, guard it with your life!"

"Okay," Blaine laughed, then clutched his side a little bit.

"Broken ribs?" A voice boomed across the annex.

Blaine jumped and turned around to see where the voice was coming from. A tall, slim man wearing a navy blue suit had stepped out of the office, Wes trailing behind. He crossed the room and approached Blaine and Nana.

"Mrs. Jackson, always a pleasure," he said, kissing her hand.

"Oh Jackie Warner, you do know how to make an old woman blush."

Wes had started to giggle when Nana called the headmaster Jackie, but managed to stifle it once the headmaster whipped around with a glare.

"You must be Blaine," said Headmaster Warner, taking Blaine's hand and shaking it, "it's a pleasure to have you here. Why don't we step into my office so we can discuss a few things? Wesley, this is a private matter, so why don't you occupy yourself with some filing."

"Yes sir," Wes responded, and then muttered, "filing would be lovely."

"I heard that Mr. Montgomery," Headmaster Warner called after him, then turned to Blaine and Nana, "why don't you come into my office."

Blaine and Nana entered the room, sitting in the two chairs opposite a large desk. Headmaster Warner closed the door and sat at the seat opposite them.

"So, Blaine, I have a couple of questions for you. First of all, are you healing well?"

"I suppose," he replied, "I mean, I still have pins in my arm, a couple of my ribs are broken and my nose is probably going to be crooked forever, but I'm not too bad off."

"That's the spirit, just like your grandfather, God rest his soul," Headmaster Warner said, "you wouldn't believe the hijinks he and I got into when we were students, why I remember climbing the bell tower with him! And then there was the mashed potatoes inci-"

"Jackie," Nana interrupted, "I don't think we should be giving Blaine any ideas, especially if you like this school in one piece."

"Right you are Susan," he chuckled, "now Blaine, are you ready for the rigors of Dalton? We are one of the most prestigious college preparatory schools in the nation. I know that some public schools are lacking in structure and discipline, so I want you to know what you're getting yourself into."

"I think I'm up to it, as long as no football players decide to stomp on my arm or anything like that. I love to learn."

"Good to hear! And rest assured that you won't have to worry about any of that behavior here. We have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to bullying and violence. Now, why don't we have Wesley show you to your dorm room?"

Twenty minutes later, Blaine had all his things in his room, with some help from Wes and his grandma. Wes had bid them farewell and rushed off to Warblers' rehearsal, and he had promised to get Blaine an audition in exchange for new risers provided by Nana, regardless of whether Blaine got into the Warblers or not.

"Let's unpack this stuff," Nana said, surveying the almost empty dorm room. She walked across the small room and opened the wardrobe. "Oh look Blainey, they already have your uniforms in here," she laughed, taking a uniform out to show him, "you're going to look so handsome!"

"Thanks grandma," he blushed, hanging up a few posters.

"I'll put your clothes away, you just focus on getting those posters up the way you like them."

It only took about an hour to assemble the room. Blaine was smoothing his comforter when he realized that he'd forgotten to call his parents. "Crap! Nana, I forgot to call mom and dad!"

"Just call them now," she replied, putting the last of his clothes away.

"Hey dad, yes I made it to Dalton, no I didn't die. Yes, I know you got me a cell phone for a reason. No! No I do not want one of the little kid ones! Thanks dad, yeah, love you too!"

Blaine ended the call laughing. "At least I know they care," he giggled, plopping down on his bed.

Nana gracefully sat down next to him. "It's a little different from Christmas, isn't it Blainey."

"Yeah," he said, leaning into her side, "it only took a brutal beat down to bring them around."

"Oh sweetheart," she wrapped her arm around him, "you know that they still loved you…they're just interesting folks."

"That's putting it mildly," Blaine snorted.

"Hey, new kid," Wes had appeared at the door, "you've got an audition with the Warblers in twenty minutes. Suit up and meet me in the commons."

"Cool, thanks Wes!"

"It's nothing. By the way, Mrs. Jackson, the council thanks you for your kind donation."

"It's not a problem, Wesley," she replied, smiling, "just let me talk to them so I know which ones you want."

"Thanks again Mrs. Jackson," he said as he left, "and twenty minutes, Blaine."

"So, Blainey, I guess this is goodbye," Nana said, hugging him close.

"What if I don't get in?"

"Blaine Eric Anderson, you will get in," she shook her head, and stood. "Now give Nana a hug."

Blaine stood and wrapped his good arm around Nana. "Love you…I'll see you around, right?"

"Honey, if you need anything, I'm only thirty minutes away. You're always welcome. Now why don't you put that uniform on? You'll look so handsome."

"Okay Nana," he said, giving her one last squeeze, "I'll call you tonight."

"You better! And I love you too." She strode out of the room, closing the door and leaving Blaine alone.

Blaine put on one of the uniforms hanging in his closet, tying his tie carefully with one hand. He quietly left his room, taking care to remember his room key, and was met by Wes and another boy in the commons.

"Hey Blaine, this is David."

"Hey new kid, how the hell are you doing? And what is up with your arm? And your face-holy shit, it looks like you've been hit by a-"

"Excuse him," Wes interrupted, rolling his eyes, "he was born without tact. Or anything even resembling social grace."

"It's okay," Blaine laughed a little too hard and ended up clutching his side.

"Hey, dude, you okay?" David asked, moving to Blaine's side.

"Yeah, I just have a couple of cracked ribs."

"And you're still auditioning for the Warblers?" David looked at him like he was crazy.

"Yes, he is," Wes said, "and we'll be late if we don't get him to the choir room now."

"Sheesh, okay," David replied, "let's go Blaine. By the way, how did you acquire your amazing injuries?"

"He'll tell us at dinner, okay?" Wes responded, definitely irritated.

Wes led Blaine to the choir room, where he stood in front of panel of three boys.

"We're the Warbler's council. That's Ronald, that's Patrick, and I'm William. I understand that you've just moved in, but could you be persuaded to sing us a little something? It can be a cappella, but we need to hear you. Also, you'll need to harmonize with Wesley and David here, just to test blend. What voice part are you anyway?"

"I sang baritone at school," Blaine answered, a little intimidated by the formality, "but I'm really a tenor, they just needed more baritones. What should I sing?"

"Well, do you have any solo repertoire from voice lessons?" William surveyed the rest of the council, who nodded.

"Well, um, I've never taken voice lessons. I was lead soloist in my jazz choir at school though!"

"How…nice," William said, a pained smile crossing his face, "why don't you sing us one of those?"

"Oh, okay…well, we were working on the King's Singers version of And So It Goes, so I guess I'll sing something from that?"

"That would be…satisfactory. Could you perhaps sing the melody part? We could have David and Wesley back you on that then. Just the first two verses will suffice."

"Okay, cool," Blaine replied, forcing a smile and smoothing his Blazer. He started to sing.

_In every heart there is a room  
>A sanctuary safe and strong<br>To heal the wounds from lovers past  
>Until a new one comes along<br>_William's mouth fell open, and Wes and David smiled as they joined in on harmony. Blaine felt more confident, and let that shine through in his voice._  
>I spoke to you in cautious tones<br>You answered me with no pretense  
>And still I feel I said too much<br>My silence is my self defense_

When Blaine finished the second verse, David slapped him on the back. "Holy cow, you can really sing!"

"Thanks," Blaine smiled sheepishly, blushing.

"Well, Blaine, after briefly consulting with my fellow council members," William said with a pompous air, "we have decided to offer you a place in the Warblers. Do you accept?"

"Yes, yes, of course!" Blaine was beaming.

"Well, thank you, and you are dismissed," William said, banging his gavel.

"Hey, new warbler, let's go eat," David grabbed his uninjured arm, "it's chicken nugget night!"

"What?"

"Chicken nugget night! Oh my God…it's like manna from heaven."

"Be careful," Wes warned, trailing behind them, "things get vicious at chicken nugget night."

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><p>Vicious was an understatement. Chicken nugget night was tantamount to a battle. There was a huge line of shoving boys, all trying to get to the chicken nuggets.<p>

"They're MINE! Give me back my damn plate!"

"NEVER. You snooze you lose, jackass."

"Um, David," Blaine hissed, "I don't think this is a good idea."

"Just wait," Wes said, "he has his ways."

David approached a cafeteria worker and sidled up to her. "Hello Doris," he smiled at her, "how are we doing tonight?"

"How do you think, David? It's nugget night."

"Oh, yes, that," David giggled, "well, you see my friend over there-the one with the broken arm? Well, he'd really like some nuggets, and it's just so hard for him to deal with the crowd."

"How many do you want, David?" Doris sighed.

"Well, let's go with thirty."

"Your friend wants thirty chicken nuggets?"

"Look at how small he is! He's practically malnourished." David turned on the puppy dog eyes.

"She's not going to do it," Blaine whispered to Wes.

"Just wait."

"Oh David," she said, "I'll get them, but this is the absolute last time! The other boys will think I favor you."

"Oh Doris, you're a doll!" David threw his arm around Doris, who shrugged it off and went to get more chicken nuggets.

David shot Wes and Blaine a thumbs up, and Wes just rolled his eyes. "I told you he'd do it," Wes whispered to Blaine.

David approached them carrying a plate mounded with chicken nuggets. "Shall we proceed to the dining room gentlemen?"

"I suppose we will," Blaine giggled, following David and Wes to the dining room.

Dinner got more interesting. David proceeded to grill Blaine about his injuries, his old school and his family. He summarized it all at the end.

"So, you got beat to shit for going to a dance with a boy, your old school sucked, and your parents were totally homophobic until you got beat to shit at your sucky school."

"That'd be the quick summary of it, yeah," Blaine laughed.

"Well, I guess we're acquainted then. Wes, David, been friends since we were three, ridiculously rich families, never been beat up." David recapped for Blaine.

"Thanks, David," Wes snorted, "I'm sure he needed that."

"Well, gentlemen, shall we adjourn to the commons for the night? We can play a rousing game of Halo, and then hit the hay. Blaine here'll need the sleep to survive his first day at Dalton."

"An astute observation, David, I think we shall. Will you join us Mr. Anderson?"

"Um…I suppose?" Blaine answered, surprised at the sudden formality.

"I like you," David said, "I think we'll keep you."

"Okay," Blaine gulped; setting his tray on the conveyor belt and following Wed and David back to the commons.

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><p>AN: Chicken nugget night is serious business at college, so I figured it would be the same here. Seriously though, if any of you are just starting college, watch out on nugget night. I've seen injuries.


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